


Not Safe For Work

by tinybeans



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Choking, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Neck Kissing, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation, WHAT THAT TONGUE DO ELIAS, Workplace Sex, confession kink, reader is an archival assistant, work performance review gone SEXUAL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinybeans/pseuds/tinybeans
Summary: You work at the Magnus Institute as an archival assistant. One month, your work performance review doesn't go well. Elias works to fix this in an unexpected way.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Reader, Elias Bouchard/Reader, Elias Bouchard/You
Comments: 32
Kudos: 191





	1. Distractions

"Overall, your work this month has been very unsatisfactory. I'm quite disappointed." 

The ticks of the clock in Elias' office seem to be slower than usual. You clench your fist silently, covered by the other hand clasping over it. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath sounds like a good idea right now, but Elias' emerald eyes stare into yours intensely, as if assessing your very soul while holding a knife to it.

You've been working as an archival assistant for a few months now. Thankfully, you barely get assigned to the illegal tasks that Jon often assigns to the others for the sake of statement follow-ups. Tim's "crime board" found in the assistants office only has your name scribbled on it twice, in comparison to the dozens of your fellow co-workers', with messy tally marks under some of them to avoid filling up the space quicky. But that just means you're mostly in charge of compiling the reports instead. 

Making said reports weren't that difficult, really. You even felt confident in the quality of your work, and took pride in it. For the first few work performance reviews, the feedback had been very positive. The satisfying words of, "Excellent performance this month." from Elias had you walking on clouds for the rest of the day. You were even thinking that a raise was possible.

This month, however, you just couldn't get to the same rhythm. As if karma decided to give you the f-bomb, you've faced multiple problems that served nothing but stress your burned-out brain.

It doesn't help that you've seemed to have developed a huge crush on your boss.

You've prided yourself in barely, if ever, getting distracted while you were doing work. But as of late, your thoughts have been drifting to.. thoughts not safe for work, to say the least.

The man in front of you is the main subject of those thoughts. His hands, clasped together, are long, slightly veined, but it's shape is somehow very appealing. The way he adjusts his tie with those slender digits, or the way he flips through papers of statement files after he's licked it (you never understand why people do it, but seeing him do it is porn in itself), has done things to your thoughts. On the topic of that, the lick itself is quick, but it's enough to get you thinking of what else that tongue can do--

"Well? Anything you have to say for yourself?" Elias interrupts your thoughts, a slight frown and half-lidded eyes displaying his discontent.

That voice. You always had a thing for deep voices, but his has the sexiest ratio of bass to soprano. Dark, creamy, like black coffee with a hint of sugar, but dear God does that slight touch of sugar get your spine shivering and craving for more.

"I-I'm sorry," you reply, face warmer than comfortable, "I think I've just been really stressed out lately. I know this isn't a good time to ask, but maybe I need a bit of a break?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. The one thing you've hated about yourself is how words tumble out of your mouth without thinking. Why would you ask for a day off after you just got a shitty performance review? Maybe that was a good idea, some kind of break from work may help to stop you from thinking about him smashing you over your desk all the time.

Elias simply raises his eyebrow slightly, but you swear a smirk flashes for a slight second. "A break? If something in the institute has been constricting your work ethic, I must address it. Tell me, what exactly has been distracting you?"

Your mind feels a little tingly sensation, but your anxiety of the situation brushes it off as a symptom of itself. 

"You. You've been occupying my mind a lot more often than you should, and I can't type a mere paragraph of a report without fantasizing a scenario about how you're gonna fuck me at work!!"

The smirk on Elias' face resurfaces, this time your anxiety picks up on it.

"I am so sorry but I find you extremely fucking hot. Your voice is like-- is like ear porn and I keep thinking about how good your fingers would feel inside me or against my ass when you spank me for my punishment!" 

The tangent mixed with anxiety has you gasping for air, but that breaks you from whatever spell made you confess such dirty thoughts to your boss as an excuse for your shitty work ethic this month.

Wait.

Fuck.

Panic, anxiety, shame, and embarassment all shoot throughout your body in a flash. As if your face wasn't heated enough, your whole body flushes to match with it. You attempt to stutter out an apology, but you don't even hear or register what's flowing out of your mouth, as your attention is somewhere else.

That smirk plastered on Elias' face widens in amusement.

"Ah, I see." he finally says. "I don't think a break is what you need, though."

"Yeah, you're gonna fire me, aren't you?" you reply, unsure of your answer.

"Fire you?" he chuckles, the sound sending a jolt down your spine, "No. Quite the opposite, actually."

You blink in confusion, and wait for him to continue. After an awkward few seconds of a staring contest, Elias sighs. 

His hand raises to his green silk tie. With a hook of his index, and a flick of his wrist, the tie loosens and falls from his dress shirt into his grip. Feasting over that sexy gesture, you note to yourself how long ties actually are. Getting up from his leather office chair, Elias walks over to you, who remains frozen in place, heart pounding madly. He leans over to your ear from behind, "Do you trust me?" he almost whispers, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, and a familiar tingling sensation returns.

Your mind is too blank to think. The white noise that came from different parts of you screaming conflicting answers at each other seem to dissipate, and you're only left with one.

"Yes."

"Good." Elias purred, and you can practically hear him smirk, "Now, hands behind your back."

Your hands hesitantly go behind your back, clasping tightly together. Your shoulders raise slightly, and your jaw clenches at the anxiety of thinking about what the hell your boss is going to do to you.

"Relax." Elias catches your nervousness. Your shoulders and jaw relax in response, hands loosening slightly.

He takes your left hand and holds it against the bar of the sled base chair you're on. You feel smooth silk wrap around your wrist once, twice, and the other end of it loops through to secure the knot in place. The silk tightens- a bit too tight; you feel stars begin to dance across your hand. His slender (and awfully moisturized, you now note) finger tugs slightly at the knot to loosen it very slightly. Tightening once more, you find the binding wrapping just right. The sensations repeat on your right hand, now pressing against the other bar. Silk: once; twice; loop; tight, but just enough the first try now.

Elias gets up and walks to his desk, resting himself against it, and crosses his arms. You feel his eyes scanning your body, and you shift in the chair- the bondage restricting you from doing much- to make yourself as comfortable as you could. You close your eyes to take a deep breath, to prepare yourself for whatever the hell is coming next.

"So... Uh... W-what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best efforts.

"Mmm, why don't you tell me? What exactly do you want me to do to you now?" Elias asks back, though that smirk screams that he Knows the answer already.

The tingling returns, and rather than anxiety, arousal follows it. Your mind hops from fantasy to fantasy, spinning your head as if trying to reel for the correct answer. Is there one? Your eyes drift to his hands.

"Choke me."

You snap out of the daze, realizing what you just said.

"Oh," he croons.

"Wait no no no I--!!" you begin to protest, but Elias' fingers had already snaked around your throat, and, oh, he's squeezing it _hard_.

Your breath hitches and a small, high-pitched noise escapes your throat. Elias' face is dangerously close, and you attempt to jerk your head to look away, but his grip is too tight. You do want it a bit tighter though.

As if on cue, the hand on your throat squeezes harder. Another squeak comes out of you, but now you can't breathe. Tiny stars kiss your face and dance across your vision from the lack of oxygen. You should be scared, but _God_ do his soft, slender fingers feel heavenly around your neck - the warm wetness pooling down there agrees with you. Elias continues to watch you, half-lidded eyes of amusement staring at your eyes- no, he's looking at _you_. The way he looks at you like a prized prey finally captured sends a soft wave of arousal throughout your body. Your eyelids begin to feel heavy, and now your brain is screaming for oxygen--

The hand constricting your throat lets go, and you inhale deeply. Your lungs spasm, hungry for oxygen, and now you're a panting mess. The stars dissolve from your vision, but Elias' face is still uncomfortably close to yours.

Without warning, your hair is yanked violently backwards, jerking your head up and exposing your neck.

"You enjoy being _controlled_ , don't you?" Elias muses, lips grazing against your ear. He tightens the grip on your hair.

"Ah--!!"

"So obedient, _submissive_ , though I do admire your boldness, commanding me to _choke you_ out of all things."

"I didn't mean to-- ahh--!!"

Elias interrupts your objection, peppering soft, wet kisses under your ear. His lips continue to caress your skin, making their way down your neck, trailing ever so slowly to extract as many lewd noises from you as possible. Each kiss sends a small but painfully pleasurable sensation all over your neck, causing your toes to curl. Your body squirms uncontrollably, but the silk binding pins you down tight. "You're awfully sensitive here," Elias noted in between kisses, "such euphonious noises you're making." Ashamed, you press your lips together in an attempt to stifle any more moans. Once he reaches that spot just above your collarbone, the waves of pleasure amplify, and you moan louder than you want to let out. You feel Elias' tongue trace the sensitive spot, again, and again, (you're sure your thighs are soaking at this point), and a muffled chuckle with it. Teeth graze ever so slightly on that spot, and horror spikes into your mind.

"D-dont!!" you plead, earning a raised eyebrow from Elias. "What if the others see it?" You do want a hickey from your boss, but if your co-workers see, you wouldn't hear the end of it. You can practically see Jon scowling, lecturing you on work misconduct, and Tim bombarding you with personal questions and sexual jokes. Maybe Martin wouldn't mind, or bug you as much as the other two.

Elias hums in contemplation, the subtle vibration tickling your neck. "They'll simply know you're _mine_ , then."

Pain shoots through your nerves, followed by pleasure, barely numbing it down. You yelp in response, biting your lip down quickly to stifle any more noise. Elias sucks at the skin caught by his teeth, the mix of pain and pleasure intensifying. You try to jerk your head to minimize access to your already abused neck, but he punishes you with another harsh tug of your hair. With one final lick, Elias releases himself from your neck, his hands detangling from your locks. 

As your head scrambles to recover, you feel Elias' hands glide along your thighs. You desperately try to close your slightly parted legs, but his grip keeps it open. He pries them apart with ease, despite all the strength you muster to fight it. You instantly regret wearing a skirt. Or do you?

"My, you've made quite the mess here." Elias chuckles. Your face grows even hotter, and you could mistake it for a high fever. "Eager, aren't we?" he teases further, fingers now hovering over the waistband of your skirt. You hesitantly raise your hips, allowing him to pull your skirt down and off your legs along with your panties.

Oh God, he wasn't lying. A small pool of your wetness had shamelessly formed on the leather of the chair. Elias' smirk becomes deviously wider, and you swear your whole body is on fire now. His fingers snake up your thigh, and presses them into your wet folds. The fingers slide up against your vulva, the squelch so quiet yet loud in the empty room, and flick your clit, sending a quick but powerful jolt all over your core. Pulling them back, Elias examines his fingers, twisting his hand slightly to let you see as well, and you see his fingers are coated with your juices, a slight sheen confirming its presence.

"I don't think I can send you back to your office like this." says Elias, examining his fingers before drawing it close to his mouth. "Perhaps I should-" he inserts the digits into his mouth, lips dragging back to the tip of his fingers oh so slowly. He makes sure you're watching, eyes ensnaring yours, as he parts his lips and drags his tongue seductively on the tips of his fingers before they part, leaving a thin thread of liquid between them. The string breaks as fast as it has formed, and he licks his lips in satisfaction. 

_oh mY GOD--_

"-clean you up?" Elias finished, his wide smirk flashing a hint of teeth.

"Yes PLEASE--!!" you blurted out before the tingling lasts long.

Elias chuckled again, the deep tone of it causing you to blush harder. 

"Only under one condition." he said, "You must confess everything."

You raise your eyebrow.

"You have been fantasizing about me, haven't you?" Elias elaborates, his face so dangerously close to your pussy. "What do you imagine me doing to you?"

The tingling feeling assaults your head once more, and your head spins, the fantasies coming to display. You shut your eyes tight, feeling, no- knowing, you can't stop yourself. 

"Look at me," Elias commands, "look at me, and _confess. Everything_."

The tingling intensifies, and with a shaky breath, you lock eyes with him and begin,

"I-I imagine you eating me out while I sit on my desk. I want your hands to grip my thighs and your tongue deep and fast inside me--"

Elias's nails dig into the soft, supple skin of your thighs. His tongue caresses your folds, circling your vulva a few times.

You inhale sharply and bite your tongue. The work performance review shouldn't be lasting this long; hopefully the others aren't looking for you.

"Go on." Elias murmurs.

"U-um.. I imagine you sucking on my clit hard--"

He repeats the action, a powerful wave of pleasure shocking your body, causing you to yelp.

His eyes look back at you, waiting. You inhale again.

"I want to put my hands in your hair and pull you closer. I imagine how good your tongue feels, not just down there, but all over my body. I want to cum all over your face, Elias--!!"

Talking while your pussy is being assaulted by a godly tongue is quite difficult, you note. You find yourself constantly panting for breath, and the pleasure down there is immense, but it's somehow not enough to send you over the edge yet.

Every once in a while, Elias retreats, and nibbles teasingly at the neighbouring skin. His lips follow, kissing the bites so gently in contrast. 

Your confessions continue, and you're made aware of how much time you've wasted creating such detailed and dirty scenarios. Getting fingered over your desk, spanked at the break room while you grab a hot drink, neck kissing and hickeys in the dim lighting of the artifact storage, or straddling him while you both grind to orgasm on that strangely large, black leather office chair in front of you. Each scenario you confess, you're rewarded with Elias' heavenly tongue, his strokes getting faster and it's so hard to stop yourself from moaning at least once every sentence. You're not even halfway done, and the realization shames you, but the built-up pleasure threatening to burst stops you from talking. Elias' tongue assaults your clit with fervor, and your hips are bucking desperately to reach your limit. His hands pin your thighs down hard, rendering your attempts useless. Your panting gets faster, toes curling, and you feel that divine pressure below ready to release. You're so close, you brace yourself--

Nothing.

You whimper at the loss of contact, and you try to buck your hips again, hint at Elias that you were _so close._

With that devious grin on his face, you think he Knows, though.

"Why'd you stop?" you whine.

"I thought you were done. You stopped talking, so I'll stop, ah, 'cleaning' you."

"B-but--!!"

"That was my one condition. I didn't say I was going to let you cum." The way he says that word is so salacious, and your clit aches for said word to happen. By his tongue, no less.

"Unless, you do have more to share with me." Elias teases, lips getting closer once more to the wetness that years for him. 

You swallow your pride. "...yes."

"Alright then, I'm waiting." 

Your eyes wander to the desk in front of you.

"I've imagined you bending me over that desk," you begin. His lips kiss your oversensitive bead, his tongue follows and licks the folds around it slowly. You continue to describe the scenario, though this one is the most elaborate. Getting pinned to the desk, the erotic words you want him to whisper into your ear, and how hard he slaps your ass (multiple times, you obviously needed to add) until it flushes red. All of this you blurt out, the shame heating your body further, but the reward is so immaculate; his warm, slick tongue working wonders to your clit. The knot in your core that was lost had built back up in mere seconds. You're panting hard, struggling to speak in between the gasps and moans that vibrate out of your throat. 

"I imagine you-- ah-- putting your dick inside-- hahh-- inside me," you choke out.

Two fingers slide into your vagina without warning, entering with ease.

A startled moan escapes your lips, and you instinctively tighten around Elias' fingers, earning a soft chuckle from the man. 

"And.. fucking me hard.. so hard I can't walk--!!"

His fingers begin to move, the slow and steady thrusts making more lewd noises with your fluids. The intense pressure is back, and you find yourself trying to buck your hips again uncontrollably. Pleasure washes all over your groin, small intense waves crashing as his tongue keeps licking your clit again and again. Your hole tightens as Elias' fingers slide in and out mercilessly now, curling slightly to hit that _sweet spot_. The pleasure from this is less intense, but the warm sensation spreads to your thighs and it feels so _wonderful_.

You're reaching the limit, it's so close, just a few more seconds at this pace.

But Elias starts slowing down, and you mewl in protest.

"Please!!"

"Please _what_?" he responds.

Oh. He's getting you to beg.

"Please, Elias, just let me.." you trail off, hoping that was enough.

But of course, it wasn't. His pace is slowing even more.

"Let you _what_?"

"Please let me _cum_ , Elias!! I can't take it anymore it feels so good!! Please make me cum!!"

A satisfied smirk crawls onto his face.

" _Good girl_." 

His fingers thrust at such a speed you find yourself curling away from them, your body shaking from the sudden increase in pleasure. His tongue quickens as well, and the pressure in your core intensifies at an alarming rate, you don't have time to brace yourself.

"ELIAS I'M- I'M GONNA--"

" _Cum_."

The pressure bursts into a leg-shaking orgasm. Your head thrashes back and all you can see is white. Harsh but divine waves of pleasure spread throughout your body over and over again, and your body thrashes in response. Elias doesn't stop; you swear he's going even faster. The overstimulation is too much for your body, but you can do nothing but squeal and moan louder. You feel your throat getting so dry, and your hands tightly grip the bars of the seat, knuckles turning white. Your hips press hard against Elias, who continues thrusting and licking to help you ride out the orgasm to the fullest.

After what feels to be at least half a minute, the waves finally stop. Your body goes limp, and a heaviness blankets over it, lulling you to sleep. But you fight to stay awake. You're still at work.

Elias pulls away, licking his lips clean. You try to savour the picture, but your eyelids are so heavy. He pulls out a cotton handkerchief from his breast pocket, and cleans himself as if he finished a delicious meal. You _really_ left a mess. 

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asks with that damn smirk again, to which you reply with a soft nod.

Walking over to you, he unties the binding made from his tie, finally freeing your arms. Elias raises the tie, and observes it quietly for a few seconds, before he frowns. "It's wrinkled. You can keep it." he tosses the green tie to you. With the tiny bit of strength you have, you try to catch it, but the silk slithers through the gap between your hands and lands on your naked lap. Elias sighs, and places a spare handkerchief onto your hand to clean yourself with. Of course he has a spare.

You wipe yourself and the chair with the cloth, and put your skirt and panties back on. You get up to fix yourself, but your muscles are still weak, and you stumble. Elias catches you by the hand and steadies you, seating you back down. "Easy, now. Was it really _that_ euphoric?" he teases, and you blush, a nervous chortle follows it. Elias doesn't break his gaze, and his eyes scan you for a few seconds. You then realize your hair is probably looking quite unprofessional, to say the least. From his back pocket, he takes out a black metal comb. How many things does this man have in his pockets? 

Elias begins combing your hair, taking small sections and detangling the strands with care. "Take a warm bath tonight," Elias advises, "the tie shouldn't have been tight enough to leave bruises, but it's best to be safe." You blink, surprised at his behaviour. He seems to be more knowledgable about this than one might think. With the comb, Elias traces a line down your midline, and parts your hair accordingly. He scans your face once more, and he smiles faintly.

"All done, you're good to go." Elias says, sliding the comb back into his pocket. 

You stand up to leave, picking up the tie he gave you. 

"Um, thank you." you mumble, before screaming at yourself internally. Who the hell says 'thank you' after getting eaten out?

Elias hears it though, "You're welcome. Hopefully this deals with your, ah, distractions."

You chortle nervously again, and exit his office.

The door closes behind you, and you look at the tie in your hands, unsure of what to do with it. 

You're keeping it, that's for sure.


	2. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the performance review proves to be quite awkward, and Elias doesn't make things any easier.

The encounter at Elias' office did not help with the distractions. In fact, it had made it worse.   
  


For some reason, your work ethic improves after the meeting, and the heavy weight of your pent-up stress dissipates almost completely. You don’t hop back into your rhythm perfectly, but you’re pumping out reports at an improved rate and quality. Elias' 'treatment' seems to be like a miracle drug, yet the side effects are strong; you fantasize about Elias even more often than before, and the scenarios get kinkier than the previous ones. You often catch yourself halfway through an erotic thought, and yell at yourself quietly for it. Sure, your hot boss ate you out in his office, but that was just a one time thing. Right?   
  


Sitting in front of your laptop at the archival assistants’ office, you bury your head into your hands, a muffled noise of frustration leaking out of the little gaps between your fingers. You often scoffed at people who slept with their boss, but now you’re stuck in a similar situation. A breathy, soft laugh escapes your lips, as you laugh at yourself for having trouble with such a childish dilemma.  _ Get back to work, _ you think, _ stop fantasizing about your insanely hot boss, and get back to work. Look, you only have the follow-up data left to input. _ In an attempt to follow your own advice, you lift your head from your hands, and place your fingers on the smooth plastic buttons of the keyboard.  
  


_ The image of Elias staring into your eyes as he licks your wet folds with fervor and skill flashes into your mind, and you remember that intense pleasure his tongue blessed you with-  
  
_

You shut your eyes tight and your face falls into your cupped hands once more, a groan rumbling from your lips.

  
“Are you okay?” a soft, gentle voice asks, the sincerity in it faintly calms you. You look up, and across your desk you see Martin at his, looking at you with his eyebrows scrunched upwards in worry. Out of everyone in the institute, you feel like Martin is the one you can confide in the most. But you can’t tell him that you’re fretting over if you should make a move to your boss after he fucked you with his mouth during a private meeting.  
  


“I’m alright,” you sigh, stretching your arms upward, “just a little stressed. Can’t really focus.”   
  


“Green tea should do the trick. Should I make you some?” Martin offers with a light tilt of his head, and his smile is so sweet, it’s hard to say no to him.   
  


“I can make it myself,” you reply, getting up from your chair with a squeak. "I don't want to distract you from your work."  
  


“Are you sure? You look really tired.” he says, his face plastered with a concerned look of a caregiver. You’ve always admired his motherly personality. Especially when you were awfully new, he took the time to help you out; from cups of tea to basic training for the job, he always made sure you were comfortable working in the archives.   
  


“Yeah, I think I need to take a walk anyway.” you assure him, and make your way to the break room.  


Pouring yourself a cup from the hot water dispenser, you open the packet of green tea, and dip the small bag of leaves into the cup. The half-torn instructions tell you to leave it in the water for one to two minutes. Normally Martin would brew it for you, and his blend of honey to lemon was more than enough to snap you out of this cranky state. Sometimes getting your ass out of that creaky office chair and taking a small walk helps you out of the rut, and hopefully the process of making yourself a cup of tea proves to be as therapeutic as many claim.  
  


_ Your mind flashes back to that encounter, and you remember the image of Elias’ face nestled between your thighs, his eyes staring into you as you confess another fantasy of yours-  
  
_

You pat your cheeks- more of a slap, really-, to cut yourself from your thoughts. Your face had already flushed slightly from the quick recollection.   
  


The clicking of dress shoes catches your attention, and the flush on your face intensifies. In a panic, you stare intensely into your cup.  _ Only a minute and a half left _ , you tell yourself, swirling the bag ever so gently to get your mind to focus on one thing only. The soft scent of expensive cologne gets closer, and you feel the presence of whoever walked in nestle right beside you. You quietly observe them through the clutter of noises; the soft clinks of a ceramic mug, and a few beeps and clicks from the coffee maker.  
  


“Green tea, commonly used to improve one’s focus.”   
  


A smooth, dark voice interrupts your thoughts, the soft sound of coffee being filtered ringing in the background.   
  


“Still having trouble with.. Distractions?”  
  


You turn to the source of that alluring, suave voice, cursing yourself. Maybe you should’ve let Martin brew the tea this time. A playful smirk dances on Elias’ face, and you’re sure your face gives away the truth of his accusation.  
  


“It’s just my favourite kind,” you awkwardly lie. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you can’t deny that there’s some truth to his words.   
  


“I see,” he replies, though you’re convinced he sees through the half-lie.   
  


In the absence of the green silk tie, a black one nestles under the collar of his dress shirt. A dark olive suit hugs his body snuggly, but loose enough to leave you wondering if his body has some sort of build to it. His clean-shaven face highlights his sharp jawline, and those eyes; they catch your stare, and Elias turns his head to you.   
  


“I, um, yeah, I have been kind of distracted, still...” you spit out unconsciously. Part of you screams to take it back, and make some kind of excuse to cover up your half-assed attempt to evoke your boss into helping you with your fantasies again. Before you can think of something, Elias leans into you without warning, his body only a few inches away from yours. “Is that so?” he asks, and that devious grin widens. At the corner of your eye, you see his arm make its way to the lower half of your body. Did he remember one of your fantasies? Is he acting on one of them right now? Your heart hammers uncontrollably as you internally scream at yourself to think of something to do. Elias inches closer, and you hold your breath in hopes he doesn’t notice you panting in panic like a wild dog in heat.  
  


You hear a drawer behind you open, a quick rustle of packaging, and the drawer closes. Elias steps back, and holds up a packet of cream between his fingers. “My apologies,” he breaks the silence, “it’s a bit difficult to reach that drawer from here.”  
  


A loud beep screeches from the coffee maker, marking the end of its task. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” you mumble, and jerk your head back to your cup of tea, the liquid now darkly tainted from the tea leaves. Realizing the tea has been oversteeped, you remove the bag hastily, a couple drops of tea spilling onto the floor as you throw it into the garbage bin. You briskly walk out of the break room, flustered from the interaction. Halfway down the hallway back to the office, something clicks into your mind.  
  


Elias likes his coffee black. 

  
  
  


In the past two weeks, you find yourself wearing turtlenecks more than you have in your entire life. Sure, a bit of concealer could hide the love bite you both love and hate, but the knitted mask of the former guarantees coverage, and its soft embrace helps to deter your thoughts from the pleasurable pain that came with the mark. You're sure it should have healed by now, but its soft dark tint hints at you that it's staying for longer.  
  


Fiddling with the soft yarn of the garment, you stare idly at the bright screen of your laptop, scanning the long lines of text decorating your latest report. Reviewing the draft too quickly, you decide the quality is decent enough to send out, but before you click the flat mousepad to print it-  
  


“Knock knock,”   
  


A familiar, elegantly deep voice startles you, the singsong in his voice coating his words with playfulness.   
  


The sudden arrival of your boss makes your heart jump ever so slightly, and you turn to the man, hoping your face isn’t as red as your body tells you. Elias is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a thin folder sandwiched between the fingers of his hand; they hold it like a playing card; with this game he’s playing, you wonder how he’ll use it now. The smile on his face is far too wide to be a simply polite one, and there’s a glint of something in his eyes; you can’t tell what it is, but that alone confirms that he’s not here just to deliver that folder.   
  


"I found a few files and reports relating to the latest statement in my office," says Elias, walking over to you briskly with a slight rush in his steps, "they should provide some sort of guidance at the very least."  
  


"Oh, thank you." you say. You stand up and walk just a bit past your desk to meet Elias, legs barely shaking, and accept the folder. It’s surprisingly thin, and you wonder if this was really something so important that Elias out of all people delivered it to you. Studying its contents, you can count the number of sheets in the folder with just one hand.   
  


Before you turn around back to your desk, you notice Elias staring at you. His eyebrows scrunched up ever so slightly in focus, and his eyes are scanning you; from your eyes, to your toes, and back up. A wave of anxiety gently washes over you, and a few seconds of silence pass.  


"Is there a pro-"  
  


Elias suddenly steps closer, and on impulse you walk back, only for your foot to smack into your desk. You grip the edges to balance yourself, yet the small distance between you and your boss makes your head spin. His smile twitches into a sly smirk as his hand inches towards your neck. Your eyes widen, and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop whatever noise is threatening to release from your throat. His fingers grasp the soft yarn of your turtleneck, tugging at the fabric that hangs over.  
  


"It's not exactly ideal to be wearing a turtleneck in this weather, is it?" Elias asks, his fingers playing with the fabric slowly.  
  


"Just a fashion choice," you lie, a slight quiver in your voice, "it's pretty comfortable, actually."  
  


"You've been wearing it quite often. Is it really just, ah, a fashion choice?"   
  


A familiar tingle grazes your mind, and the sensation rouses some excitement, much to your dismay.  
  


"No, I.. I've been using it to cover up the mark."  
  


"Ahhh," Elias exclaims, a tone of slight victory and amusement rings with it. The low rumble of his voice sends waves of panic mixed with arousal down your body. You must look like a frightened prey, caught in the hands of its hunter, as his predatory grin widens, flashing his pearly white teeth. Blood pounds throughout your head loudly as your mind scrambles to think of anything, but it comes up with nothing as Elias’ eyes lock with yours; they stare at something deeper in you, calculating what the next move should be, as they continue to indulge at the sight of you malfunctioning. A conclusion is finally reached: stay silent, let the moment pass. But as Elias retracts an inch, you instinctively reach for his tie. He grabs your wrist just as quickly, his tight grip freezing you in place once again.  
  


"I believe you have some reports to attend to. Best to wrap those up before doing anything else; your performance review is quickly approaching." Elias warns you, a slight taunt in his voice. His fingers release his grip on your wrist, but your arm doesn't move.  
  


"Oh..! Right." The words tumble out of your mouth as you stare dumbfoundedly at Elias. His grin relaxes to a satisfied smile, as he turns to leave the office. The soft clicks of his dress shoes fade as you sit back down on your squeaky office chair. Your wrist is slightly warm from his touch.  
  


You sigh in defeat as you finally press down on the mousepad, the loud screeches of the old printer deafening you. While waiting for the report to finish printing out, you decide to read through the papers inside the thin folder to pass the time. Upon further inspection, you contemplate whether you should shred the contents, or shove it inside your messy, disorganized desk drawer along with the other useless junk you've stuffed it with.   
  


After all, Tim had already sent you these files a couple days ago.

  
  
  


"Your performance this month has been satisfactory," announces Elias, "quite an improvement from the last."  
  


The gentle clicking of the clock is slightly off beat with your own pulse. Your palm rests on the small bulge in your pocket; the green silk tie haphazardly stuffed into it. You know why you brought it here, but you're unsure if it will fulfill the purpose you've given it now. The sensation of being bound, anchored into one position, robbed of all control, and your shameful, forbidden thoughts drawn out of you at his command; you don’t know why all of that excites you so much, yet your body has been aching for that same feeling of helplessness ever since you had a taste of it. Those awkwardly tense encounters with Elias in the past month had left you reluctantly yearning for more; his actions sent mixed signals, but the uncertainty of what he'll do next undoubtedly ignites something in you. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been counting down the days to the next performance review. Is that what he was hinting to as well during those moments? Did he want to set up the stage for the next performance? How will he play with your body this time? No- how will he  _ control _ it this time?  
  


Your thoughts come to a pause as movement catches your attention; Elias raises his hands to fix his slightly crooked tie, the slender fingers gently push the silk fabric back into place-  
  


_ The same fingers that thrust vigorously into you as his other hand pins you down to your seat, mercilessly subjecting you to the overwhelming pleasure washing over you as you ride your high  
  
_

You jerk your head to look away, screaming at yourself for thinking about that meeting for the third time today, and right in front of the man responsible for it.  
  


“Is something the matter?” Elias asks, his smirk contradicting his concern.   
  


And with that contradiction, a realization comes to you.   
  


The formalities are over with. The stage is set. The performance begins.   
  


“I’m still having trouble with distractions,” you say, faking an innocent smile as best you can, “any advice on how I should deal with it?”  
  


Your heartbeat quickens, now twice as fast as the clock, as you wait for him to respond. His smirk spreads wider, a glint of teeth exposed. Did you return the cue properly? Were the lines you delivered the right ones? Even if the attempt was rusty, Elias is sure to pick up on your blatant hint. A crafty man such as himself, so cunning with his words and actions, would be the last person on Earth to be so dense. You lock eyes with him; to show confidence in your act? Obedience to his control? Acknowledgment of the script and the play he's planned out for the two of you? You're uncertain, but it feels like an action you must take to keep the performance going. Elias opens his mouth to speak, and the palm on your stuffed pocket tightens its grip on the soft mound of fabric underneath.  
  


“Hmm, I advise you to get a planner.” Elias says casually, and whatever mood was in the air suddenly drops. “I find that writing out a schedule helps one to stay on track; having the plan out as an external reminder is more effective than keeping it in your mind.”   
  


_ What?  
  
_

“Taking small breaks is a must as well,” he continues, the tone in his voice raises to a slightly sprightly one, and his smirk widens. Is he just playing with you? “the break room isn’t much, but a hot cup and a short meditation should clear your mind. Quality of one’s work often depletes when they force themselves to finish while they’re not exactly in the right mindset.”  
  


“Oh… um, thanks.” you mumble, your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.  
  


“Will that be all?” Elias asks as he tilts his head, his hands fold together and curve slightly from the weight of his chin. His mischievous smile stretches from ear to ear, and his eyes squint in gratification. Elias is just indulging in your awkward attempts to engage something, and he’s taunting you with his obvious display of amusement. The ticks of the clock count the seconds of silence that pass, but as each tick echoes throughout the office, drops of anger fill the pool of frustration in you. What else are you supposed to say? You’ve been pretty obvious now, and if he doesn’t want to-  
  


Ah, he’s trying to humiliate you.   
  


As the thought clicks into your head, that pool of frustration overflows, and you snap.   
  


“You know what? Yeah, that will be all,  _ Mr. Bouchard _ ,” you sneer at him, knowing full well how much he  _ hates _ being addressed like that. Makes him feel old, he claims.   
  


An unamused frown replaces his smug smile, and his eyebrows scrunch together; the bastard’s clearly displeased. Hah. Point one for you. The small victory sends adrenaline all over your body, and you can’t stop yourself from throwing your bucket of rage all over Elias.   
  


“I don’t know what the hell you want me to do. You’ve been teasing me left and right- don’t look at me like that, I  _ know _ what you were doing-, and when I try to act on it you stop me? Or act like you have no clue of what’s going on?”   
  


Your voice raises as you go on. You stop yourself, and take a deep breath; but there’s too much anger for just a deep breath to tame. 

  
“I’m  _ done _ with you toying with me like this! You want me to do better at work? Then stop fucking with my mind every chance you get! I know you get off at the thought of being the one in power, but I’m out of your sick game.” you continue, the anger in your voice makes it tremble with a touch, but the delivery is still powerful. How nice would it feel to actually punch this dickhead now?  
  


“You know what?!” your slightly shaky hands reach into your pocket and grab the tie, the fabric crumpled into your fist, and raise it. Elias raises his eyebrow slightly, and a smile twitches upward; he knows exactly why you have the tie with you. The gesture only adds fuel to the fire, and with more strength than you thought you had in you, you throw the tie onto his desk, the silk sliding a few inches towards him from the force.   
  


“Take your stupid tie back! Fuck you! Go to hell!!” you yell. The irritation slapped on his face is gratifying, and it’s your turn to smile with smugness at par with Elias’.   
  


Satisfied, you turn around to leave the office.  
  


“How  _ dare _ you talk to me like that?” Elias growls, the now sharp, firm timbre of his voice cutting your victory short. “Take that tie and tie your dirty mouth shut with it.”  
  


Oh,  _ now _ you make a move?  
  


“No.” you say, defiance amplifying your response. You hear short nails scrape the wooden table swiftly, and you make a beeline for the door. The sharp clicking of Elias’ dress shoes never really bothered you, but now its alarmingly fast tempo triggers a fight-or-flight response in you. Your mind screams that safety is just outside; just leave the office, and you win. The clicks are getting closer at an uncomfortable rate, but you’re at the door, and you're turning the doorknob; escape and victory is in just one pull.  
  


But the doors of the institute were always quite heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic continues! I'm not sure how many chapters this will have yet, but woah a lot of you wanted this to keep going. Thank you all for the positive comments, it's quite fun to read through them :)
> 
> Tumblr is @smoltinybeans, feel free to send a message, ask, anything!


	3. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such rude attitude toward your boss should be addressed. Elias makes sure he does.

You're pinned to the door with a violent thump, and Elias' body presses against your back, holding you in place. Your hands are peeled off of the doorknob as Elias grabs them and crosses them behind your head; elbows up and fingertips dangling, motionless from the shock of the impact. Fastened in place by his iron grip, your wrists hover just above the back of your neck, triceps straining to maintain the position he’s forcing you into. You finally snap out of your stupor, and adrenaline pumps through your muscles in the blink of an eye. Thrashing against Elias with all your strength, your throat springs into action.  
  


“Let me g--!!”  
  


Suddenly your lips are sealed tightly shut with what you conclude to be the tie; the fabric's rigid hold contrasts its soft, smooth surface. Your triceps stretch harder, the pain spreading and intensifying as Elias tightens the silk tying your wrists against the back of your head, the makeshift gag threatening to seal your lips shut. You open your jaw, pulling at the muscles over and over again, until your lips finally squeeze out of the suffocating embrace of the tie. The taste of silk seeps into your tongue- it really doesn't taste like anything, but if you had to describe it, paper was its main flavour, with a very slight touch of acidity; was it from the cologne Elias always doused himself with? Any protest that you try to spit angrily at Elias is effortlessly censored by the fabric, as only grumbles and muffled noises reach his ears instead. He seems to Know the intentions behind those noises though, as the binding tightens around your wrists, the familiar and intoxicating feeling of its solid grasp amplifies, pressing bone against bone. Realizing that escape is near impossible in this state, you cease your verbal attacks and close your lips, or you try to; the silk now pulls against your gaping mouth, forcing it open. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth, and the soft, flexible fibres slowly begin to dampen from the excess that builds.  
  


“You were doing so well,” Elias cooes against your ear, the condescending rumble spawning goosebumps all over your upper body, "the reward you've been yearning for was at your reach, and all you had to do was grasp it," his fingers coil around the silk between your wrists.  
  


"But now I cannot let you go undisciplined."  
  


Your vision blurs, horizontal streaks of messy, blended colours make up the memory of the journey between the door to Elias’ wooden desktop, and with a sudden thump, all you can see are the intricate grainy lines of the varnished mahogany wood. Only now the situation you’re in clicks to your mind; Elias’ hand rests on the small of your back, and your upper body now begins to acknowledge the chilly surface of the desk as it seeps through your clothing, the skin underneath getting cooler by the second. Bent over the desk, your ass shamefully displays itself to the man behind you, legs parted slightly to support the lewd position. Gathering all your strength, you jerk yourself upward in an attempt to raise yourself from the desk, but you only manage an inch off it before Elias pushes you back down with a swift press of his hand, tutting you for your pointless act of rebellion.   
  


“Hmm, spanking will be appropriate for today,” Elias says offhandedly, and you gawk at his casual tone, “it’s only your first offence after all; ten hits should suffice.”  
  


With his other hand, Elias unzips your pants, and you feel his thumb pry past the waistband and your panties, pressing itself against the supple, warm skin of your cheeks as he pulls both garments down; first the right side, then the left. You can’t tell if you’re running a fever, or if Elias’ office is just terribly chilly, as you shiver slightly from the cold air that brushes softly against your now-exposed ass. In contrast, Elias’ hand is gently tepid, the sensation of it against you is salaciously mellow that you think his hand will melt into your mound, but it’s not enough to sting. You softly moan at the warmth, careful to make sure only you can hear it; yet Elias chortles softly, and you feel your face flush in embarrassment, the cheek squished against the desk feeling colder as it takes in more of the desk’s chilly surface. His hand continues to explore the vast surface of your rear, its smooth palm brushing over it like a feather, before stopping on your right cheek. He takes his hand off of it, and before you can register the loss of contact-  
  


A loud slap of skin reverberates in the office, simultaneous with the sharp sensation of Elias’ hand striking your ass. The impact jolts your body fiercely, eliciting out a throat-scratching yelp from you; for a few seconds, you mentally thank Elias for gagging you. The jarring strike of his hand leaves your right buttock stinging, the feeling of tiny but sharp-tipped stars grazing your skin; the instant one dissipates, another follows suit. Elias’ broad hands cover quite a lot of surface area, you now note, as blood pumps a hot warmth throughout the assaulted area.   
  


“One,” Elias counts firmly, and something in the way he calls out the number rouses fear in you; he’s taking this seriously, and he’s not showing you any mercy anytime soon. With the way you acted to him a few minutes ago, you’d consider yourself lucky if you came out of this with just ten swings.   
  


Another powerful strike cuts your thoughts short, the sharp noise of skin-to-skin impact echoing in the office, and your left cheek tingles harshly, the sensations mirroring that of your right. The symmetrical pain gives an odd sense of comfort, or is it arousal? A familiar, warm pressure begins to grow in your abdomen, and you shut your eyes, yelling at yourself mentally over and over again, wishing away the sensation with no prevail; are you seriously getting turned on by this?  
  


“Two. This is supposed to be a punishment, not a reward,” Elias reminds you brusquely, his fingers gliding dangerously close to your vagina. Only a tip of his index brushes against the folds, and your warm fluid shamelessly coats it.  
  


Elias chuckles darkly, and your upper body flushes hotter in shame; the lower half betraying you, as it continues to lubricate your entrance.  
  


“Enjoying ourselves, aren’t we?” Elias teases, his hand brushing gently against your right cheek, the pain from the first spank still lingering faintly on the surface. You shake your head as much as the tie allows you to, denying what your body is proving. A soft tingle tickles your mind, and a question drifts in: what exactly is that feeling?  
  


Elias hums, the pitch shifting slightly as if he just discovered something that sparked his interest.  
  


“You hate to admit it, but you  _ are _ enjoying this,” Elias begins, and the tingling continues, tenderly intruding the folds of your brain. “The thought of being spanked was always uncomfortable; who would enjoy pain inflicted on them purposely? You never understood the appeal, and always frowned upon those who enjoyed such masochistic activities.”  
  


You freeze, a mix of panic and paranoia joins the tingling that continues to assault your mind. Can Elias read your thoughts? Is he reading the deepest parts of your psyche? No, that couldn’t be possible; are you just that easy to read? Your body has been reacting positively with Elias’ actions, surely that is what’s giving you away so easily, right?  
  


“Yet here you are, sprawled beautifully on top of my desk, eagerly waiting for the next hit, even though it is a punishment,” Elias continues, his hand cupping its next victim, thumb rubbing at the flushed skin, tracing the delicate outline of his hand marking you.   
  


Another strike lands on the swelling skin, and the pain shoots past that layer, hitting something deeper in you. The aftertaste of the spank is different now: a hint of pleasure simmers, before disappearing quickly. Saliva dribbles out of the corner of your lip unceasingly, the silk tie struggling to absorb it all. A drop barely escapes the fibres of the cloth and begins to slowly trail down your face, tracing out a wet path down towards the desk.   
  


“Perhaps that is exactly why you find so much pleasure in it. You are quite ashamed of yourself for indulging in our, 'improper' meeting,” his deliberate emphasis on that word sends a chill down your spine, “so you find it most appropriate to be disciplined for it, settle things straight for your conscience, in hopes that it will get rid of your distracting thoughts once and for all.”  
  


_ That’s not true, _ you try to yell out, but the noises are barely comprehensible as your lips are pried apart by the gag, the sounds blending together into one muffled cry. You’re unsure who you’re trying to convince now: you or him? Maybe it’s both.  
  


“Oh, but it is,” Elias purrs as he gropes the left side of your ass, the sensitive skin hot from swelling, "Even after my attempts to appease you with your distractions, you still scold yourself for recalling those moments,"  
  


You impulsively squeeze your eyes shut, expecting the darkness to envelop it. Instead, that memory floods your vision; the details are unusually vivid, leaving you on the edge of confusing which of the two scenarios you're between is real, senses tightroping the fine line with uncertainty.  
  


Elias' face is sandwiched between your plump, smooth thighs, one held down by a free hand, his other-  
  


You  _ feel _ his digits thrusting into your entrance with that toe-curling speed you remember so well, disorienting your senses into a frenzy, losing balance on that tightrope. Your walls hug them tightly, almost grabbing for his touch as he presses the sweet spot over and over with such precise force; just strong enough to gauge out as much pleasure without painful overstimulation, while his tongue fondles with your clit, already sensitive from being denied release, yet in a few seconds your body will reach that point again if he keeps this pace. Struggling against the binds proves useless as they pin your wrists against each pole of the chair firmly, and all you can do is brace yourself for this overwhelming climax. Writhing against the waves of ecstasy heating up your body, soft gasps escape your lips as the waves intensify, building to that sweet peak of euphoria-  
  


A sharp spank to your rear snaps you back into reality, knocking out a loud gasp from you. Millions of tiny stars dig into the delicate skin of your ass as the surface throbs in pain. A thin, wet path trails down one of your thighs.   
  


_ Out of all the times you could fantasize about that meeting, you choose now?  
  
_

"There you go again, berating yourself for indulging in your memories," Elias sighs, his finger tracing the curves of your butt: an open book, guiding his eyes on invisible words scrawled all over your body, “but that’s far from enough to stop you from doing it.”  
  


The light buzzing rings in your head with no sign of stopping, and somehow it makes you feel so vulnerable, open; you can't quite put your finger on the reason, but it feels almost erotic, titillating, how Elias reads you effortlessly. Gagged, unable to speak, yet Elias Knows where and how to touch you, disclosing the contents of your mind with confidence, pinning your efforts of denial down with it.   
  


“Maybe getting the subject of your, ah,’ forbidden infatuation’, to discipline you would do the trick. But that hasn’t been working out for you, has it?”  
  


Elias traces the wet line slowly inching down your thigh bottom-to-top, catching the small droplet and scooping up the liquid remains of the skinny path up to your warmth, stopping right below it.   
  


“It's so frustrating, you think, how hungry you are for my touch," he says, his intonations resembling that of an author narrating their own story, "to the point where a mere swat of my hand is more than enough to make you this wet."  
  


Elias spanks your ass once more, the intensity of the impact slightly harder than the previous, eliciting a shaky mix of a gasp and a moan from your lips. A short, gentle wave of pleasure pulses through your pelvis, coming and disappearing as quickly as the hit itself. The familiar tingles of tiny stars on your skin reappears, but strangely it feels as if only a few stars are prancing along it. Instead, a mellow pain grows in the flesh beneath; is it swelling? Bruising? Whatever it is, you don’t want the sensation to go away; you want-  
  


"You just want  _ more _ , don’t you?”  
  


He hits you again, raising the intensity of the force behind it, striking blissful pain through your skin. The small spark of pleasure sets off again deep in your abdomen, a light residue spreading through the rest of your body before vanishing, leaving you wanting more-  
  


And more he gives you, his hand knocking that intoxicating sensation deep into your gut harder than the previous, your body convulsing in response: an involuntary, drunken sign of gratitude to the man providing this foreign drug. Sweat begins to accumulate throughout every inch of your skin as your body raises its own temperature, and a small puddle of drool sits underneath your cheek, lips forced apart failing to contain the slick fluid; the silk isn't doing any better. You feel yourself arching your back, involuntarily raising your ass, desperate for another hard blow. Elias lets out a low, hearty chuckle, and the humiliation of your action heats your body further.  
  


"Begging with your body? How adorable."  
  


Another spank rocks your lower half, the dense force now cranked to its peak, as the magnitude is enough to stimulate your womb. A fragile ball of pleasure bursts, the small wave of euphoria it brings nearly overrides the price of pain; the only thing that keeps you from forgetting its existence is how long it lingers on your sweltering skin as it throbs to a simple rhythm. You want to grab something, anything, to anchor you, keep yourself from bucking wildly at the mercy of the painful ecstasy. The silk bindings remain tight, and struggling against it sends more of that sickly sensation throughout your nerves, leaving you with only the option of clenching your fists.  
  


_ More…  
  
_

Another blow to your ass sends another surge of ecstasy through your lower region. Your legs begin to shake; the harsh stinging on your blistering skin is excruciating, yet it’s not enough to stop you from chasing that high. That sweet, soothing buzz of pleasure growing beneath your bruised skin and that shot of euphoria every time he hits past your flesh and into your core is undeniably addicting. Any clothing hovering over your skin sticks to it now, a thin layer of sweat gluing them together. The binding’s embrace feels tighter, pinning your muscles in place, completely subjecting them into Elias’ blissful assault.  
  


_ More…!  
  
_

The spank lands on you with a harsh clap that echoes throughout the office, pushing out a strident moan from your throat. It  _ stings _ , it  _ hurts _ , but in a split second it feels absolutely euphoric, the mellow glow of pleasure that swiftly spreads throughout your pelvis makes your legs quiver uncontrollably. Your fists squeeze harder, almost crushing your delicate fingers, in anticipation for the next hit.  
  


_ More!  
  
_

“That’s ten,” Elias announces, “Excellent job. You did so well for me.”  
  


_ Oh…  
  
_

“While I do enjoy your enthusiasm, we’ve reached the limit, and your body appears to have as well.”  
  


The numbness on your ass slowly fades, and the sharp spikes of pain dig into your lukewarm skin, the surface pounding as blood rushes to the assaulted areas. You don’t realize how tense your muscles were until you let your body go limp, unwinding every tense position you held with the exhale of your held breath. Tugging at the knots, Elias’ fingers make quick work of undoing them, and with a swift motion he pulls the tie, the smooth silk gliding over your skin before slipping off, freeing your arms and mouth. Release from that binding feels absolutely refreshing, as cool air glazes over the path of thin sweat on the newly liberated skin. You stretch your arms and jaw, savouring the sensation of regained control over them, triceps burning from its prolonged strain. Sticky palms on the desk, you begin to raise yourself off the desk.  
  


“Ah-ah, stay there.” Elias instructs you firmly, and you cock your head to the side; partly in confusion, and partly to stretch your neck stiff from your previously strenuous position.   
  


You hear a plastic lid unscrewing from its container before it is placed beside you; its white, and a residue of some kind of cream blends in with its colour.  
  


Something cold and soft touches your burning skin, the sharp contrast makes you yelp, and you impulsively grip the closest edge of the wooden desk.   
  


“Relax. it’s just cream to prevent swelling,” Elias assures you, a soft hint of something gentle makes his voice almost affable, “Any complications in this area would be quite troublesome, seeing you use it quite often in your everyday life.”  
  


“What? I don’t get spanked every day-”  
  


“What do you do here, at your job?” Elias cuts you off, his stern tone drowning out any possible trace of hospitality.  
  


“Ah..! Yeah…”  
  


A puff of air swiftly leaves Elias' lips, "Raise it just a little higher, it's a bit difficult to put it on in this position."  
  


Hesitantly, you comply, sticking out your ass slightly upward as you bury your face in between your arms.   
  


Elias begins to spread the smooth, silky cream at the midpoint of your cheeks in small, circular motions. Its frosty touch absorbs all the heat radiating from the abused skin, transforming the pulsing, stinging pain into sweet, euphoric relief. The snowy embrace of the ointment grows as he expands his motions, tracing circles on sticky, blistering skin, barely widening in diameter. Each stroke converts hot to cold, prickles of stars into soft snow, pain into pleasure-  
  


A questionable noise: a mix of a sigh and a moan escapes your lips for a split second before you bite them shut, and you pray that it does not reach Elias’ ears.  
  


“Hmm?” Elias croons, amusement ringing in his voice; you can practically hear him grinning in hilarity, “Does that feel _ good _ ?”  
  


Lacing his words with mockery, he presses a touch harder, lightly kneading your ass. The movement nudges the tender meat beneath, a flicker of that same bliss resurfacing.   
  


You shake your head slowly, keeping your lips sealed.   
  


“Really?” he asks, continuing his cynical, fake innocence, “Is  _ this _ better?”  
  


Resuming his motions, Elias massages your mounds slightly harder, intensifying that spark of bliss. After applying more cream on his palms, he carries on with the modified treatment, kneading as he spreads the paste to the remaining areas. His actions seem almost tender and caring; careful not to put too much pressure into the bruised areas, swiping them lightly instead, while he gently massages the others as if pressing the ointment deep into your skin.  
  


Tiny bolts of pleasure, relaxing relief of cool cream absorbing warm waves from your skin, gentle kneading of supple flesh; these blissful sensations amplify as Elias covers the rest of your ass, slowly building into a mellow yet tight, warm ball in your core. A pleasured exhalation flows out of your lips, arching your back and raising your rear ever so slightly.  
  


Forgetting Elias’ intent, you let a muffled, shaky ‘yes’ out of your mouth.   
  


Coupled with a small chuckle, Elias says something, but you miss it, indulging in the pleasure that he continues to paint all over your cheeks instead. His soft fingertips continue to slide gracefully across your skin, the circles he traces now large in diameter; and you realize he's almost done. You close your eyes, savouring the final strokes, hoping he'll do a second coat so you can fully enjoy this unusual aftercare. He traces another circle, and you silently wish for one more; another, and another.  
  


"There. Leave it on for half an hour, otherwise the cream won't work properly." Elias instructs you, rubbing his fingers clean with his handkerchief.  
  


"So, can I put my clothes back on?" you ask, reaching for said garments quickly.  
  


"No, the fabric will absorb it."  
  


"Wait so-- you just expect me to stay here, ass-naked facing the door for  _ half an hour?! _ "  
  


"Yes. Consider it part of your punishment."  
  


"You already spanked me  _ ten times! _ "  
  


"But you enjoyed it, didn't you?" 

Elias pauses his wiping, removing his gaze from his fingertips and locking eyes with you; an amused smirk blooms on his face.  
  


"Every single hit."  
  


Without hesitation, you clench your fist and open your mouth, ready to shoot your rebuttal.  
  


He simply raises an eyebrow, smirk twitching a tad wider as he waits for your snide remark; his eyes now gaze at you with a taunting demeanor.  
  


You grumble in defeat, burying your face once again in the folds of your arms.   
  


The last sounds you hear in that half hour nearly lull you to sleep: the clicks of Elias' expensive dress shoes, the gentle tapping of his keyboard as he crunches through files and documents, occasional, sharp clicks of the mouse, and that constant, profound ticking of the clock that rests on the wall behind him, counting down your assigned timeframe.

_ Tick. _

_ Tick. _

_ Tick. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for the delay, I didn't officially set a schedule for this fic but I really passed the deadline I gave myself oof. Writer's block hit me hard, but I hope you guys enjoyed this!


	4. Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was barely anything to the dress code of the institute, but Elias makes a small modification just for you.

Emerald.

A beautiful colour, named after a precious gem- or was it the other way around? Fuck if you cared. The real problem now is, how do you make this colour work with your outfits? Emerald was just so flashy; not too eye-straining compared to a loud neon colour, but the shade sits perfectly in the middle of light and dark, no soft hues or dark undertones to help itself blend with other colours. It screams to be the main colour of the outfit, the star of the show, but the significance of the fabric it dyes halts you from its pleas.  
  


You sigh in frustration, closing your eyes.  
  


_ "So, um, are we… a...?" you trail off, nervously meeting Elias' unmoving gaze. He says nothing in reply, breaking the awkward staring contest as his eyes land upon the wrinkled emerald tie lying haphazardly on his desk, slightly stained a couple shades darker in a few spots. Picking it up with his slender fingers, a small mischievous smile forms on his lips as his eyes return to his previous subject. You feel his eyes examine you, studying every nook and cranny from head to toe, is he going to--  
  
_

_ "Relax, I think you've had enough for today," he teases, your muscles releasing the tension you unknowingly built up.  
  
_

_ "You didn't answer my question," you firmly shoot back, raising your voice a tad louder than your intent.  
  
_

_ Without warning, Elias steps closer to you, tie in hand. Frozen in place, your heart pounds as the distance between you- well, it isn't that close, yet it's far from professional-   
  
_

_ You feel that familiar, smooth fabric slither around the back of your neck- wait, he said he wasn't going to tie you up again, right..? Right!?  
  
_

_ "Hmm. Hopefully you have some collared shirts in your wardrobe; a tie without a collar looks quite… odd."  
  
_

_ Elias fixes the long silk into a proper tie, pushing the knot to just below your neck to finish it off.  
  
_

_ "Wear this every time you come to the institute," he continues nonchalantly, addressing the matter as a typical work-related one, "Consider it part of your dress code now."  
  
_

_ You open your mouth, but a choked gasp is what comes out of it as Elias yanks you towards him by the tie, his smile twitching up into a smirk.  
  
_

_ "I'm sure that answers your question."  
  
_

" _ I'm sure that answers your question,  _ ugh _. _ " you mutter mockingly, rolling your eyes before returning their view to your reflection. A white dress shirt and the damned tie is your base right now; but what do you wear to draw attention away from it? It’s been a month since Elias wore this tie, yet its flashy colour was the signature of his outfit; people are sure to notice you wearing it if you don't hide it properly.  
  


You walk over to your wardrobe, sifting through the hanged clothing in hopes of an idea to click in. A vest? Nope, too drastic of a change from the casual work style. A hoodie? Too casual. A zip-up jacket? Might be too obvious at trying to hide the tie, would draw too much suspicion. A blazer? Compliments the tie too well, might highlight it instead; perhaps later, when you've run out of options.  
  


A sigh of defeat waits on the edge of your lips before you slide over the blazer to the left, revealing a small selection of cardigans. Lavender, mahogany, and cobalt blue; you decide on the last. Another flashy colour, yet it compliments emerald; eye-catching enough to be the main article, but it doesn't clash with the tie too hard to draw attention to it as well. Perfect!  
  


You slide on the knit cardigan, buttoning it up as far as possible to mask most of the tie, stopping just underneath the knot to avoid it looking too obscure.   
  


With a silent prayer, you step out of your flat, and head to work.

  
  


Entering the institute feels like starting a survival game. Your heart pounds loudly, ignoring your subtle attempts to calm it down, as you briskly walk towards the office. The building was never packed; a handful of staff usually roam around, and in the rare occasion of a statement giver, never more than one would show up in a day. Glancing around you, the scenery of the institute's lobby is the same as always. Yet, you somehow feel vulnerable; the eyes of those people seem to watch you, observing you intently as you pass by their field of view. You can almost swear you see a couple people donning perplexed faces, doing their best to make it not so obvious as to alert you. Is it something you're wearing- wait, do they notice your tie?   
  


_ No, no, _ you tell yourself,  _ they're just looking at the cardigan, if anything.  
  
_

Continuing your pace, you turn to the hallway leading to the archival assistant's office. Halfway down, you see Tim pop out of said office; you shoot a gentle wave of your hand and a small greeting.  
  


"Hey, nice cardigan!" Tim comments as he passes by you. You silently praise yourself: the cardigan was the right move!   
  


"Thanks, I was a bit worried I wouldn't be able to pull it off."  
  


"Well it looks great on you, the tie really goes well with it."  
  


Your heart skips a beat. Another thank you quietly passes your lips as you silently plea for Tim's ignorance. He passes you completely, almost ending the encounter, before he turns around, pausing and squinting his eyes.  
  


"Wait, is that Elias' tie?"  
  


_ Fuck.  
  
_

"Huh?? N-no! My friend gave this to me as a gift, but I’ve been putting off wearing it for way too long," you lie, hoping to come off as casual as possible.

  
A cheshire grin spawns on Tim’s face, “Really? Your friend really happened to buy you a tie that looks exactly like Elias’?”  
  


“I mean, it’s not exactly a rare colour for ties, probably a coincidence that they bought the same brand as him.”  
  


“Yeah, but that fabric looks pretty high-end, and knowing Elias it probably cost a few hundred pounds,” he counters, “Pretty pricey for just a gift, isn’t it?”  
  


"Oh, that’s true! I should really thank them properly next time I see them,” you say, fake enthusiasm shaking your words, “B-but this isn’t his I swear!! Besides, he's been wearing a black one for a while now, right?"  
  


Tim’s grin dissolves, a small pout now present as he considers your counterpoint.   
  


"Oh yeah," he chortles, "Wonder what happened to the other one he always wore. His whole outfit always screamed  _ pompous boss _ , bit of a surprise he switched to a boring black one.”  
  


"Yeah it really did," you manage, a sigh of relief mingles into the breathy laugh that laces your words.  
  


Hah. Pompous. Why did he have to dress like the annual institute party was every day? Just wear a normal coloured suit and tie! Sure, he’s the head of the institute, but barely anyone sees him anyway since he’s just in his office for most of the day. The dress code is pretty lenient, but that doesn’t mean he needs to out-dress anyone and flaunt his expensive clothing like a fucking peacock you wouldn’t be stuck in this stupid--  
  


“Hey hey- turn it down!” Tim whispers frantically, “Didn’t you hear Elias walk by?”  
  


You instinctively raise your hands to your lips, shaking your head while checking your surroundings. The hallway becomes eerily quiet; only the gentle noises of breathing reaches your ears. Both of you scan the area again with frantic eyes, thoroughly checking every nook and cranny with a silent hope of not finding him. Seeing that the coast is clear, you two heave a sigh of relief, before giggling at the childish situation.  
  


After waving each other a short goodbye, you and Tim part ways. Entering the office unceremoniously, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, straightening yourself up as you walk towards your desk  
  


“Good morning.”  
  


A horridly familiar voice interrupts your little routine, stopping you in your tracks; you exhale slowly, failing to tame your heart that begins to hammer frantically once again. Hesitantly, you slowly open your eyes, immediately locking them with the unexpected guest, the emerald in his eyes subtly shine against the sunlight hitting his face.  
  


Elias is standing beside your desk, his hands folded neatly behind his back. The sunlight gives his face a subtle glow, accentuating its features, and you can’t get yourself to stop from staring at them: his captivating eyes, clean, shaven soft skin with little imperfections, you wonder what the hell his skin care routine is, and his lips, slightly thin yet plump; the smooth, unchapped surface reflecting slivers of the sunlight, an alluring invitation to press them against yours- oh how much you yearn to taste those lips- they curl and tighten into a smirk; have you seen this man actually smile?  
  


"Is so--"  
  


"Good mo-morning!!" you stammer to cut him off, "Is there, um, anything you need?"  
  


"Just wanted to check up on you," Elias chuckles, his overly friendly tone clashing with that predatory smirk, "Glad to see you're adhering to your new dress code."  
  


"This early in the day? You're really serious about this tie thing…"  
  


Your voice dies down as Elias suddenly begins to walk towards you.  
  


"Of course. Don't forget: I'll have to punish you again if you disobey."  
  


He bursts your personal bubble, triggering your feet to walk backwards to regain that comfortable distance, but they only take two and a half steps before your heel hits the filing cabinet behind you with a loud bang. Gluing your back to it, the metal handles push into your skin, yet your actions are futile; Elias' face is mere inches away from you.  
  


You turn to the door of the office to find it's still wide open. Anyone could walk in- wait, where was Tim going again? Is he heading back in soon? What about Martin- you glance at the clock: he should be coming in any time soon, it was rare for him not to be early--  
  


"Unless that's  _ exactly _ what you want?" Elias murmurs, the sensation of his lips grazing the shell of your ear sends your body into a frenzy you desperately attempt to bottle with a harsh clenching of both fists. Your cardigan opens up slowly, top to bottom, as Elias makes quick work of his fingers, sliding the plastic buttons over their respective slots with ease. Frozen in place, you feel your chest beating hard, threatening to pound itself out. A low hum rumbles from Elias' lips, and your mind short-circuits as he unbuttons the last piece of plastic holding the cardigan together.  
  


"Much better. Don't be shy with the presentation of the tie; it's quite a luxurious accessory, it would be a waste to hide it so deliberately."  
  


He retreats, recovering the comfortable distance between you and him.   
  


"That will be all." A small, casual smile plays on his lips as he once again feigns innocence of his actions.  
  


With a few ticks of the clock, Elias is gone. A heavy sigh escapes your lips; the first ten minutes of your shift was quite mentally draining already. Hopefully that will be the last of the unnecessary things you have to deal with today.  
  


"Was Elias just in here?"  
  


You turn to see Martin at the doorway, head cocked to one side with an eyebrow raised. Your mind reels for a believable explanation to tell him, but all you can manage is a small nod.  
  


"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, a gentle tone warming up his words into an inviting embrace, "Was he, um, bothering you about your performance review?"  
  


"Oh, no he wasn't really bothering me about it, he just, um, asked for copies of previous reports I did last month."  
  


"Ah! Well, he'll definitely see you've done your best to improve since then," Martin smiles, the small gesture lifting a weight off your shoulders.  
  


"By the way, what happened during your last performance review? You said he gave you a better rating, but he kept you in there for quite a while."  
  


_ Never mind.  
  
_

"Umm, he was just, ah--" you mumble, shifting through your mind to summon an explanation-  
  


_ His hand strikes your skin with a harsh clap, sharp pain spreading throughout the skin along with a sweet nudge of pleasure into your flesh _ \--  
  


"Go-going over what I did wrong.. and how to fix it!" you finally reply, hoping the shakiness of your voice isn't as obvious as your mind perceives it.  
  


"It took him a solid hour to do that?" Martin inquires further, his scrunched eyebrows displaying a mix of worry and confusion.  
  


"Heh, yeah, I guess he's a bit of a slow teacher; he was really bashing in--  
  


_ The strength of his spanks are now relentlessly intense, rocking your core and bursting a small bubble of euphoria with each hit. His dark chuckle rings in your ears, a tease following it.  
  
_

"the-the um, he was really adamant about me getting a hang of certain tasks, made me do them over and over again till I got it right…"  
  


_ The intoxicating sensation of his palm slapping into your ass over and over and over and over--  
  
_

The sudden warmth of two large, pulpous hands gently squeezing your shoulders interrupts your invasive thoughts.   
  


"Hey, it's okay, don't think about it so much," Martin assures you; your face relaxes, releasing tension that crept up into its muscles, "I’m sure he means well; especially since he’s going out of his way to actually show you how to do it properly!”  
  


“Thanks, Martin,” you say as he lets go of your shoulders, “I really needed that.”  
  


Martin nods before heading back to his desk; you follow suit, settling down into your seat, the squeak of the chair on beat with the click of the door. Fully settling your weight into the cushion, you wince at the small stinging sensation spreading throughout your ass. Well, it could've been worse if Elias didn't apply that cream on.  
  


_ Cold, soft cream envelops the abused skin, and Elias' soft, large digits tenderly massage your--  
  
_

You slap your cheeks, knocking yourself out of another intrusive thought. With the rough start of the morning, you can't afford to daydream about that.   
  


A final deep breath passes through your lungs as you straighten your back. The next performance review is in around four weeks, which should be enough time to enhance your work quality and efficiency. Aiming to do better than before you got, er, distracted, you hope that reaching your goal is enough to grant you a raise, or another session with your hot boss; either one is fine with you, but you can't deny you're hoping for the latter. 

  
  


Yet when you get called into his office a week earlier than usual, anxiety and confusion spreads throughout your nerves like a contagious disease.  
  


"Right now?" you ask, eyes wide in bewilderment.  
  


"Yes, he insists that you 'be in his office at 9:30 sharp'. You should hurry." Jon says offhandedly before disappearing into the hallway. You and the other assistants exchange glances; Martin sends you a tiny smile of reassurance, and from Tim, a quick shrug. With one minute left, you bolt out of the office, hoping that somehow Elias' clock is a little behind.  
  


"You're 12 seconds late."  
  


_ Oh fuck you.  
  
_

Is what you want to say if you weren't panting like a dog, trying to catch your breath with every strained stretch of your lungs. You plop down on the chair opposite of Elias, struggling for deep breaths to stabilize your breathing. Elias watches with a bored frown, drumming his fingers gently on the shiny wooden surface of his desk. A small, black paper bag opposite of his hand catches your eye, the mystery of its contents sparking curiosity, along with a fire of fear in the pits of your guts. Maybe it’s something completely unrelated to why he called you here, perhaps it’s just a package he merely left on the desk.   
  


You turn to Elias, the smug face replacing his frown immediately debunking your theory. His smile blooms just a smidge as he drinks in your expression twisting in uncertainty and trepidation.   
  


“So,” you break the silence, an ostensibly stoic front clear in your voice, “What did you call me in here for?”  
  


“I’m sure you’ve already figured that out,” Elias counters, resting his face on his interlaced fingers.   
  


“Not exactly, I don’t know what’s in that bag.”  
  


“Then why don’t you check for yourself?” he offers, sliding said bag to the center.   
  


With shaky hands, you grip the side of the bag with one hand, the other diving into the mysterious pit. A few waves of your fingers yield nothing, grabbing handfuls of air and confusion, until your fingertips finally graze something.   
  


Plastic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah I'm really surprised at how much support this fic is getting but it makes me super happy!! Thank you guys so much for the support and patience ;>

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY this one is long. I might add more chapters to this, there's a lot of things with this prompt I wanna play around with.
> 
> My second sin, enjoy eliasfuckers!!!
> 
> @smoltinybeans on tumblr :>
> 
> Also big thank you to the anons and other people from @eliasbouchardslut 's blog for all the sexy ideas!!
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated~
> 
> P.S. I love you Kath enjoy your meal


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